


if the world was ending you'd come over, right?

by amessofgaywords



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: F/F, Pre-Relationship, a short treatise on chloe being chloe, and also, as in she's soft but she's also annoying, brooke and chloe both love maggie rogers i don't make the rules, chloe is a jerk but she's still sort of nice, i want a djungelskog, jerk-lite, pre-squips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28430421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amessofgaywords/pseuds/amessofgaywords
Summary: Chloe’s parents are fighting. It’s raining outside. Jake broke up with her again. For one night, she wants to be selfish.or pinkberry, during a multitude of thunderstorms.
Relationships: Brooke Lohst/Chloe Valentine
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	if the world was ending you'd come over, right?

**Author's Note:**

> i don't... know why i like this fic an absurd amount? but here it is? some light pinkberry fluff?
> 
> title from if the world was ending by jp saxe and julia michaels.

Chloe’s parents are fighting. It’s raining outside. Jake broke up with her again. For one night, she wants to be selfish.

She’s pacing her room in sweatpants and one of her uglier shirts (it’s from the American Museum of Natural History in, like, eighth grade and it has a dinosaur on it, really tragic) and trying to decide between indulging in ice cream or a greasy-ass pizza for dinner. Honestly, why can’t she have both, though?

But of course, because it’s the worst night ever in history, the stupid DoorDash app won’t load, so Chloe is stuck here without an extra-large meat lover’s and without ice cream. That’s just downstairs, but the kitchen is a freaking _warzone_ right now. So, no dice.

So she’s up here, trapped in her room and pacing. Still. Like that weird little short kid who has ADHD or something. Mitch? Rich? She sees him muttering to himself in the hall sometimes. He’s close with Jake. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Back to _Chloe’s_ problems.

Her bed is unmade and looks tempting so she flops down. It’s been a don’t change your pajamas, wear socks and double sweatshirts kinda Sunday, and the blanket-pillow cocoon she’s got going on is pretty sweet. Or at least it would be if the stupid fucking rain would calm down.

See, this is why Chloe hates October. Everything is rain and gross and people jumping out of corners to scare you. Sure, some people say that about February, but February has a week off and Valentine’s Day and it’s starting to become spring again. October is just dry skin sweater weather and Chloe hates wearing sweaters.

Brooke likes October. Of course she does. She’s into pumpkin spice and snuggly knitted clothes and all that crap. Brooke, like, worships fall. And it would piss Chloe off if it weren’t kinda cute.

Whatever. Anyway, it’s thundering and raining right now and it’s not like she’s going to admit it but maybe Chloe’s a little scared of thunderstorms. Like just a little. It just kinda sounds like the house is gonna come crashing down and she’s hated them since she was a kid, okay? It doesn’t matter. She’s gonna text Brooke. Maybe that will make her feel better.

**urvalentine:** yo B you there?

And… no response. Figures. Chloe groans into her pillowcase and it _almost_ drowns out her mom’s shouting for a second.

“You’re never here! What did you think I was going to do, wait up by the phone like some mid-century housewife?”

“Well, that’s what you should’ve done, considering you don’t even have an actual job!”

“Oh, real mature, Rob!”

Yeah. She’s gonna need headphones for that.

Just as Chloe is detangling her earbuds (she’s really got to clean out her nightstand drawer at some point) her phone rings. It’s Brooke’s ringtone, some god awful techno pop song that they both thought was funny when Chloe got her new phone a year ago and she hasn’t bothered to change. Brooke’s face flashes up on the screen, a picture of her with a dandelion held up between her lips and nose like a mustache, holding a can of La Croix and wearing her yellow sweater, her hair falling in her face, classic Brooke. It makes Chloe smile before she presses the accept button.

“Hi! Sorry, my phone died. What’s up?” Brooke’s voice is bright and cheerful. There’s probably no demonic yelling going on at her house. Her parents are great. They, like, love each other and shit.

“Life fucking sucks,” Chloe says, cause it does, and she hears Brooke agree on the other end.

“Why does life suck?”

“It’s raining.” Chloe rolls over and shoves her face further into her blankets, trying to make herself like a burrito or something. Why is it so _cold_ in her room? “And, uh, my parents are fighting.”

“Aw, Chlo.” Brooke makes a kissy noise into the phone. “I’m sorry, babes. You wanna come over?”

Chloe doesn’t get the warm, kinda fuzzy feeling that’s spreading through her chest when Brooke calls her _babes._ Well, like, she does get it, but she doesn’t _want_ to. Feelings like these, especially for someone like Brooke Lohst, they don’t end well. Chloe’s a responsible person. She’s a smart person. She swallows down _whatever_ that dumb affection is and plays with her blanket like she’s trying to make a decision. But she knows what’s she’s gonna do.

“Yeah, okay, whatever. I guess I’ll drive over.”

“Okay! Sure you’re okay to drive in the storm?” Of course Brooke is concerned, cause she’s perfect. Chloe sighs.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. See you in a few.” Brooke says goodbye and hangs up and Chloe stares at her phone for a second, like she’s waiting for something. Then she gets out of bed.

She doesn’t really bother to change much. Running a brush through her hair and throwing on a nicer tank top instead of her gross, stained shirt should be fine. Oh, and leggings instead of sweatpants, probably. She grabs a hoodie and pulls it over her head, and at the last second switches her glasses for contacts. No need to wear _those_ out of the house if she doesn’t need to. So maybe she changes a lot. But she doesn’t want anyone to see her like this.

The screaming has moved to the office in the back of the house by the time Chloe gets downstairs, so she steals her dad’s car keys (to the Volkswagen, so it’s not like he’ll miss it, it isn’t the BMW or anything) and sneaks out the front door with her phone in hand. The rain is pouring so she starts up the car from the front step and runs with her hood up to the garage. It’s just warming up by the time she’s in the driver’s seat. And off she goes.

Driving is nice. Chloe likes being able to drive. She’s only been doing it for three months on her learner’s permit, and _technically_ she has to have someone older in the car right now, but who actually cares? Everyone always tells her she looks old enough anyway, no one will bother to pull her over. She’s just driving to the other side of town. Plus, she’s been taking Driver’s Ed since she was 15. She knows what she’s doing.

The drive to Brooke’s house would be nice if the fucking rain weren’t so loud and scary. Every time thunder crashes Chloe’s heart leaps into her throat. But she’s not going to admit that. Chloe Valentine, scared of thunderstorms? As _if._

Brooke’s road is full of potholes and her driveway is like a freaking lake. Chloe navigates the Volkswagen halfway up before getting tired and just getting out and stomping up to the front door. Her UGGs are absolutely soaked by the end. She opens the screen door and knocks, and Brooke’s mom answers.

“Oh! Hi, Chloe. I was just about to leave for work. Brooke is in her room. You can come on in.” Even though they don’t hang out at Brooke’s house as much as they used to (Chloe’s is bigger and she has a pool, plus her parents usually aren’t home) Mrs. Lohst is still used to Chloe showing up randomly, at all hours. Even past seven on a Sunday night. Chloe realizes that she didn’t bring clothes to change into or something so she can’t stay over. Whatever, Brooke probably has stuff in her closet Chloe can wear. Hell, she might even have some of Chloe’s stuff that she’s left here.

Brooke’s mom pushes past Chloe and gives her a weird look and Chloe realizes she’s been standing in one place and cringing at the thunder for like thirty seconds. She smiles as politely as she can and waves at Mrs. Lohst as she gets in her car and then she goes inside.

The inside of Brooke’s house is warm and cozy and Chloe’s always loved it in here. She takes off her soggy boots by the door and pads down the hall to Brooke’s room in her cat socks. Brooke’s door is cracked open and Chloe can hear Queen playing from inside. Somebody to Love, maybe? Nice.

Chloe doesn’t bother knocking and just opens the door. Brooke startles from her spot at her desk, half doing homework and half singing along. Chloe flops down on the floor so she doesn’t get the bed wet and leans against Brooke’s giant stuffed bear from IKEA that they got on a road trip one time. Brooke turns around in her chair to look at her.

“Rough night?” She asks totally genuinely, sipping from a hot mug of something, probably pumpkin hot cocoa. She’s wearing a sweater and pajama shorts, and she has a scarf wrapped around her neck and tall boot socks on. She looks weird. Who wears scarves indoors?

“Or something,” Chloe grumbles, face planted in the bear, which was named Djungelskog or something so now that’s what they call it. He’s soft and plushy but she’s not going to be comforted by a bear. She wants Brooke to come over and cuddle her. Or whatever. “Do you have aspirin?”

She hears Brooke get up and rifle around in her dresser. “Here. There’s a cup in the bathroom.”

“Can you get it for me? I’m weak.” Chloe pouts cause she knows it will work. Brooke sighs softly and walks the _two feet_ down the hall to the bathroom, seriously, it’s not that big of a deal, and comes back with a half glass of water. Chloe swallows the two painkillers, chases them, and plants a messy, wet kiss on Brooke’s temple as a thank you. “You’re the best, Brookie.”

“Okay,” Brooke says and her face goes all red. Chloe doesn’t know why, it’s not that weird to kiss your best friend, right? She doesn’t know. She’s tired. “Um, did you finish the chem homework?”

“I’m leaving it for study hall. I couldn’t fucking concentrate at home.” Well, she probably could have if she listened to music or something, but her parents screaming is a good excuse, right? She just really doesn’t care that much about significant figures. Just write the whole number, Jesus.

Brooke is still standing in front of Chloe, kind of awkwardly. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

“Nah, finish your homework. I’m not trying to piss off Mr. Grinch or anything.” Their chem teacher’s name is Gritch but Chloe started calling him Grinch in ninth grade and it just caught on. But she doesn’t call him that to his _face,_ duh. Not even Madeline would be dumb enough to try that. Probably be failed for the whole semester.

Brooke sits back down in her chair cross-legged and starts humming to the next song that came on, something Chloe doesn’t recognize. She relaxes back into Djungelskog and pulls his arms around her, closing her eyes and listening to Brooke hum and the steady scratch of her pencil. She could maybe fall asleep like this if Brooke’s hardwood floor weren’t so damn cold. And hard. She should get a carpet in here or something. Mental note: look into rugs as birthday gifts.

“I like this,” Chloe mutters. “What is it?” Brooke stops singing for a second and looks over at her.

“Um, Toto. Hold the Line.”

“Oh, those guys that did the rain in Africa song?” Brooke hums yes and Chloe nods. “Sounded like them. Huh.” Brooke goes back to doing her homework. She’s got to be almost done, though.

Thunder crashes through the room. With her eyes closed Chloe must have missed the flash of lightning that would have prepared her. She flinches and _maybe_ she screams a little bit. Brooke turns around with concern in her eyes and a crooked smile.

“I forgot that thunderstorms scare you,” she coos, sliding out of her chair and crawling across the floor to Chloe’s side. Chloe shakes her head, like, _vehemently._

“Uh, they don’t.” Brooke just smiles and pulls a blanket down from her bed to cover them. With Djungelskog at her back, the blanket on her lap and Brooke tucked against her side, the big furry arms of the bear cocooning them, Chloe feels mostly warmer. She nuzzles her face into Brooke’s hair with another softer crash of thunder.

Brooke’s hair smells like vanilla shampoo, just a little chemically probably because she doesn’t use the high end stuff, cause it’s cheaper. Chloe sighs it in anyway, taking in the lavender-pineapple-sunlight scent of her leave-in, and it makes her think of yellow. She clutches Brooke’s sweater in her fist and the hair smell must have hypnotized her or something, cause she’s saying “am I gonna turn out bad?”

“What do you mean?” Brooke asks softly, twisting her arm so that it can drape over Chloe’s legs, the weight feeling kinda nice.

“Like my parents. Does that mean I’m gonna turn out like them? Mean and angry all the time? Horrible to the people I love?”

“Do your parents love each other?” Brooke says it totally seriously. Chloe shrugs, cause she doesn’t know. “Then you don’t have to worry about it, because you’ll treat the people you love well.”

Chloe sighs and buries her face farther into Brooke’s neck. She can smell her skin now, fresh with that _Brooke_ smell that she can’t really describe. It’s making her brain feel heavy. “What if I don’t? What if I don’t know how? Or I don’t on purpose?”

“I dunno, Chlo.” Brooke yawns and sinks further into their snuggle pile. The song changes over to something Chloe _immediately_ recognizes, and she jumps, jostling Brooke from her position.

“Ah! Maggie Rogers!” The opening notes of Light On continue to play, and Chloe contemplates getting up to dance, but it’s warm and comfortable here and Brooke is snuggling in again. So she settles for singing along under her breath, rubbing gentle hands up and down Brooke’s back in time to the music.

Chloe doesn’t sing a lot mostly because it feels kinda weird to do it front of other people, but sometimes, if someone gets her in the right mood (or she’s really, really drunk) she’ll start singing along to whatever song is playing. Right now, Maggie Rogers drowns out the rainstorm outside and Brooke is a nice, warm, numbing presence at her side (seriously, her arm is gonna go numb where Brooke is sitting on it), and she feels sorta like she wants to sing.

Brooke hums along with her. They both know all the words, duh, it’s Maggie Rogers. The only artist they can both _actually_ agree is good. Except for Taylor Swift, but even then Chloe says her new stuff is better and Brooke likes the yeehaw era and- _shit._

A crash of thunder loud enough to shake the lights resonates, and Chloe jumps, her heart shooting into her throat and her hands clenching tight around Brooke. She traps her lip between her teeth and tries to remind herself that they’re not gonna die.

Another crash of thunder, except this time the lights actually go out. Maggie Rogers’ voice cuts off suddenly. Chloe blinks so wide, eyes so open, that she thinks she can see into another dimension.

“Oh, crap.” Brooke scrambles out from underneath the blankets and stumbles over to her desk. It’s fully dark outside and with the power out, they can’t see _shit_ in her room. But Brooke has a hidden battery-powered nightlight left over from when she was in elementary school and was afraid of the dark (Chloe only knows about it because she was digging around in Brooke’s underwear drawer once looking for her alcohol stash, it’s not important), and Chloe can hear her opening the dresser, digging through random crap, and then finally flipping the switch. The little pink cat has barely enough glow to see each other’s faces, but it’s fine for now.

Chloe stands up, letting the blanket fall around her feet. “Uh, what do we do now?”

“I dunno. Should we go back to your place?” Brooke asks, shuffling her feet and not meeting Chloe’s eyes.

“No, duh. My parents are probably still eviscerating each other.” Chloe flops back on Brooke’s bed, scooching up so she’s laying against the pillows. “Let’s just stay here. And, uh, sleep, I don’t know.”

“Okay.” Brooke looks like there might be more she wants to say but she doesn’t say it and Chloe can’t be sure anyway in the low light. She climbs up on the bed next to her and pulls the blanket from the floor up to cover them. It takes a ton of awkward maneuvering but eventually they’re both tucked under a layer of comforter and blanket, almost nose-to-nose cause Brooke’s twin is _super_ tiny.

“Hi,” Brooke breathes into Chloe’s face and her breath tastes like toothpaste. Chloe twists up her mouth, not quite a smile but something else.

“Sup.” They stay like that, listening to the eerie silence of a neighborhood without power. Back at Chloe’s, if the generator’s come on, her parents will probably still be fighting. The wind will hit the trees and echo around the house even if they’re not. Here at Brooke’s, everything is peaceful silence. Chloe’s almost overheating in her sweatshirt and socks with all the blankets on her, but it’s a kind of pleasant overheating. She tucks herself closer to Brooke.

“Sorry about your homework, I guess. We can do it together in study hall.” Chloe tries to force fake cheerfulness into her voice cause the darkness and the quiet is a nice peace but the thunder is still loud and she still feels a little unsettled.

“I don’t have a study hall before chemistry, Chloe.”

“Oh. Ha, right.” Chloe buries her face in a pillow, which smells like Brooke’s hair but more diluted. The rain smacks against the window and it sounds kinda like thoughts smacking against the inside of Chloe’s brain. “Um, how much charge does your phone have? We can watch Netflix.”

“Almost a hundred. What do you wanna watch?” Brooke slides out of bed to grab her phone and leaves Chloe with a momentary coldness that she feels even under her clothes and that she _still_ doesn’t get.

“I don’t care. You pick.” Chloe really doesn’t care. And sure, she’s happy when Brooke puts on _Reign,_ (a personal favorite of Chloe’s) but that doesn’t mean the more important part isn’t holding Brooke’s hand and nodding off on her shoulder and dreaming of vanilla and lavender-pineapple-sunlight. Why else would she have driven all the way here instead of just putting in her headphones?

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me @amessofgaywords on twitter.


End file.
